


Reforged

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-29
Updated: 2004-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian is no longer the man that Justin fell in love with.  Can they learn to love each other again?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Author's Note: This story takes place after Season Three and disregards all Season Four storylines except for Brian starting his own ad agency.

* * *

The sound of the front door banging shut forced Brian's attention away from the battered paperback in his hands. He glanced up briefly at the man who entered before returning his attention to the book. His only acknowledgement of the other man's presence was a slight scowl. 

The man, Jonathan, chuckled softly as he crossed the room to sit on the arm of Brian's chair. "You know, in Italy people greet each other by kissing." 

"I hear Rome is nice this time of year," Brian replied brusquely. 

"You could at least look up," Jonathan coaxed. "Maybe say something? A 'hello' would be nice." 

"No, you shutting the fuck up would be nice," Brian snapped, violently throwing his book aside. 

"Shit, Brian, what crawled up your ass?" 

Brian's jaw tightened as he concentrated on smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of his jeans, refusing to look up. 

"Brian?" Jonathan reached out to stroke Brian's hair, but the other man jerked away from the caress. Sighing, Jonathan slid off the arm of the chair and knelt in front of Brian, taking the other man's face in his hands. "Tell me what happened," he said gently. 

There was no response. Brian simply continued to avoid Jonathan's eyes. 

"He just had a rough day, Johnny," Jonathan's mother, Irene, called from the kitchen doorway. 

"I'm not buying that, Mom. Will one of you please tell me what happened?" 

"I kind of lost it at work," Brian said, his voice low and despairing. He pushed Jonathan away weakly and slipped past him to hide in his bedroom. 

Jonathan waited until the door shut behind Brian before picking himself up off the floor. "What happened?" he asked again, running a hand through his sand-colored curls. 

"I don't know the whole story, Johnny. I wasn't there. Something somebody said, I guess. Anyway, he remembered some things, but it only made him more confused. Like I said, he just had a rough day." 

"Shit." 

"He came home early - that Christy girl drove him - and he's spent the whole afternoon sitting in that chair, pretending to read that book." The woman paused, taking her son's chin in her hand so that he was forced to look her in the eye. "You know there's nothing we can do when he's like this. And you know he'll be all right." 

"I know, Mom," Jonathan replied quietly. "And you know I have to try to help him." 

She hugged him then, and smiled sadly at her boy. "I know." 

* 

Jonathan knocked gently on Brian's door and then tried the knob. The door was unlocked, so he opened it slightly. "Can I come in?" Taking Brian's silence as a 'yes,' he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. He hesitated only a second before he toed off his shoes and climbed onto the bed to spoon behind the other man. 

"Don't," Brian said, pushing away the arm Jonathan wrapped around his waist. 

"I just want to help." 

"You can't fucking help," Brian roared, rolling away from Jonathan and jumping to his feet. He scooped up his shoes and slammed out of the room, leaving Jonathan lying there feeling completely helpless. 

"Morning, Brian," Jonathan mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen. "You feeling better?" 

Brian had the good grace to look sheepish. "Yeah. I'm sorry about last night. It's just…." 

"You don't have to explain," Jonathan assured him. "This whole thing has been hell for you, I know. I can't even imagine. I've tried." He wrapped his arms around the other man. 

Brian didn't return the embrace, but he allowed himself to be hugged. "I'm trying to put it behind me and just…go forward. But then something happens, and I feel like it's all right there, just out of reach." 

"You're bound to remember, Brian. The doctors told you that," Jonathan assured him, brushing the hair back out of Brian's eyes. 

"They also told me that shit like this only happens in the movies, so excuse me if I don't have much faith in them." 

"Then have faith in yourself," Jonathan whispered, kissing Brian on the temple. He sighed when Brian flinched away, but he took the hint and gave the man a little space under the guise of looking for breakfast. "You have anything planned for today?" he asked casually as he rummaged in the fridge. 

"Let's see," Brian replied, staring thoughtfully into his coffee cup as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "I have 'depressed funk' until 11:00, a round of 'feeling sorry for myself' from 11:00 to 12:00, 'angry at the world' is from 12:00 to 1:15, 'self-loathing' from 1:15 to 3:30, and then more 'feeling sorry for myself' until 5:45. I think I'm free after that." 

Jonathan laughed around a mouthful of cold pizza. He chewed hurriedly and swallowed before trying to respond. "Why don't you reschedule? I thought we could go to a movie or something." 

Brian shrugged. 

"And I want to go by the mall. Katie got my special order in." 

"What is your obsession with cartoons, anyway?" Brian asked, knowing the question would get under Jonathan's skin. 

"Anime, Brian," Jonathan explained, clearly frustrated. "Not cartoons. It's…you're doing that on purpose." 

"Doing what?" Brian asked, flashing his most innocent and disarming grin at his friend. 

"Jackass." Brian just continued to grin, and Jonathan found himself grinning back. "So are you coming with me or not, jackass?" 

"I'm not a big fan of that place, John," Brian said. He turned his attention to rinsing out his coffee cup and dropping it into the dishwasher. The unexpected sensation of Jonathan's hands settling on his shoulders startled him, but he managed to keep from flinching away. 

"I'll buy you a present," Jonathan coaxed. 

"I have a job, you know. I can buy things for myself." 

Jonathan couldn't miss the bitterness in Brian's voice. He forgot sometimes that the other man considered himself a charity case, a misconception that neither Jonathan nor Irene had been able to correct. "I know you can. I just happen to like buying people presents." 

"Then buy one for your mother, and leave me out of this," Brian replied hotly. He pushed himself away from the counter, sending Jonathan stumbling backward, and turned around to face the other man. 

"Why are you pissed at me?" Jonathan demanded. 

"Because you don't know when to stop," Brian answered levelly. 

"I only want to help," Jonathan replied, trying - and failing - to keep the hurt from his voice. 

"I know," Brian replied. "I do. I know that," he insisted when Jonathan looked at him skeptically. "It's just…it doesn't always feel that way." 

"How does it feel, then?" 

Brian swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, collecting his thoughts. "I don't know. Like…like you want to own me." 

"That's not true," Jonathan assured him, his voice soft and a little sad. 

"Every time I'm alone with you, I feel like you want more than I want to give. More than I can give," Brian explained, lifting his head to look into the other man's eyes. "I can't be what you want me to be, Jonathan. Not now, maybe not ever. Probably not ever." 

"You didn't feel this way a few days ago." 

Brian looked down again, not knowing what to say. 

"Is it because of what happened yesterday?" The tiny twitch of the muscle in Brian's cheek as he clenched his jaw was all the answer that Jonathan needed. "Was it something bad?" he asked, genuinely concerned. 

"No. Maybe. I don't know," Brian stammered. "I think I had someone. Before." 

"A boyfriend?" 

Shaking his head, Brian looked into Jonathan's eyes again. "A girlfriend. Maybe a wife." 

"I thought…" 

"So did I. Until yesterday. This woman came into the store with a little boy. The kid got away from her and was running around. I caught him just before he walked out the front door. I wasn't really thinking; I just scooped him up and tossed him in the air, the way you do with little kids, and he laughed like it was the greatest thing ever. And…and I just got this little flash. Another little boy, and a woman. I was holding him and I kissed the woman. I think...no. I know that the boy I remembered is my son." 

"Holy shit. Brian." Jonathan gathered the other man into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, rubbing circles on the Brian's back. 

Brian let Jonathan comfort him for a few minutes and then pulled away. He forced himself not to flinch when Jonathan touched his cheek, wiping away tears that he hadn't realized were there. 

"That explains why you were acting so psychotic last night," Jonathan teased, pleased when he was rewarded with a shaky smile. "Brian," he continued in a more serious tone, "I'll back off. And I'm sorry for…for making things more confusing." 

Brian gave him another shaky smile. "You can make it up to me." 

"How?" 

"You can buy me a really expensive present when I let you drag me to the mall."


	2. Reforged

The two men caught a movie and then wandered aimlessly through the crowded mall, peering in shop windows and talking about nothing. Brian tried to take in everything at once - as he always did - hoping desperately that something would catch his eye and make him remember. As usual, however, nothing sparked his memories. 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The last few months had been frustrating and terrifying. Brian couldn't remember much, but he was certain that nothing he had experienced in his life could ever compare to waking up in a hospital and not knowing who the hell he was. 

Jonathan called his name, snapping him out of his melancholy musings. He had walked right past the anime shop. He flashed Jonathan an apologetic grin and followed him into the store. 

"Hi, Katie," Jonathan greeted the girl behind the cash register. 

"Hey beautiful," Brian added his own greeting. "When are you going to leave your old man and run away with me?" he asked, leaning over the glass-top counter to kiss her cheek. 

"If you can figure out a way to carry this kid for the next seven weeks, I'll consider your offer," Katie replied as she ran a hand over her swollen abdomen. She laughed at the horrified expression on Brian's face. 

Katie went to the back room to find Jonathan's order, leaving the two men to browse the store. Jonathan, for once, was content to simply stand at the counter and admire the wall hangings rather than look through the extensive collection of Japanese animation videos that the store carried. Brian figured that the hundred and fifty dollar special order he had come to pick up had curbed Jonathan's spending urge. 

As for him, Brian was completely bored in the store. He had no great love for comics or animated movies, though he could admire the creativity and talent that went into producing them. With nothing else to do while he waited, though, he eyed the glossy covers of the nearest comics. Some of them were written in what he assumed was Japanese and others in German and French. Even the English language comics were ones that he had never heard of - at least not that he could remember. 

Katie rang up Jonathan's order, and Brian turned to give Katie another kiss before leaving. As he turned, something caught his eye - something about one of the comics seemed familiar after all. He traced his fingers over the letters that made up the title, then picked up the comic and stared down at the cover. Something…something just out of the reach of conscious thought. Maybe if he concentrated.… 

"Brian? What is it?" 

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever he had been searching for was beyond his reach now. He flashed the comic at his friend. "Just seemed familiar," he explained. 

Jonathan took the comic from Brian and looked at it more closely. "I've never heard of it," he commented as he flipped the book open. 

"It's kind of obscure, I think," Katie supplied helpfully. 

"Hey. Look at this. Art by Justin Taylor. Do you think he's related?" Jonathan asked. 

Brian huffed a humorless laugh. "Taylor is not exactly an uncommon name, John-boy." 

"But there's some kind of connection," Jonathan insisted. 

"There's no connection," Brian said, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes Jonathan was a little too optimistic. "I just said it seemed familiar." 

"But this Justin guy, he could be your brother or something. There could be a connection. That could be why it seems familiar." 

"Jonathan!" Brian snapped. "Just drop it. There are probably a hundred 'Justin Taylor's just here in Chicago. And probably a hundred 'Brian Taylor's, and I doubt that any of them are related." He leaned his head into his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers into his temples. "Besides, I don't even know if that's my fucking name." 

"I'm sorry, Brian," Jonathan said, sliding the comic book back into its slot. "Let's go eat." 

Brian hugged and kissed Katie goodbye and left the store without another word. The subject of the comic book was dropped, and by the time the two men had finished lunch, Brian had forgotten all about Rage and Justin Taylor. 

* 

A few days later, Jonathan bounded into the house and slammed the door shut behind him. Brian ignored the commotion -- it was a common enough scene, after all -- and finished up his task of setting the table for dinner. Irene, however, wasn't so quick to dismiss the noise. She handed Brian the spoon she was using to stir a pot of pasta sauce and headed into the living room to berate her son for slamming the front door again. Brian just shook his head and stirred the sauce. 

Irene swept back into the kitchen and took the spoon. "Jonathan thinks he's found something you need to see," she said. 

"Thanks for the warning," Brian replied. He kissed the older woman on the cheek before going to see what Jonathan had for him. 

He walked into Jonathan's room, an irreverent quip at the ready, but the look on his friend's face made him swallow the words. The man looked like he had seen a ghost. 

Without a word, Jonathan handed Brian a manila file folder. Brian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering his strength. Jonathan had brought bits and pieces of information to Brian before, but none of it had panned out. The look on Jonathan's face told him that this time would be different. He opened the folder, and then opened his eyes. 

Staring back at him from a glossy magazine page was his own face. Rather, there was a photo of a painting that prominently featured his face. He just stared, too shocked to read the accompanying print. 

Jonathan cleared his throat nervously. "The article says that the painting is part of a charity auction to benefit the families of some people who were killed in a plane crash late last year. That painting, it's supposed to be of one of the people who died in that crash." 

"I'm dead," Brian said numbly, still staring at the photo before him. 

Jonathan took the folder from Brian's hands and shifted the pages inside. "There's an article about the plane crash and how this guy is raising money to help the families. Apparently, it was some kind of…what do you call it? Maiden voyage? One of the first flights by some up-and-coming airline. The people on board were all employed by the airline or were invited to be there - it hadn't gone public yet. Anyway, there was a mechanical problem and the plane went down. The families sued the airline, but the company was still kind of in the red with startup costs and stuff, so this guy put together some fundraisers to help the victims' families." 

"That can't be me," Brian whispered hoarsely. "I wasn't in a fucking plane crash." 

"Maybe you missed the flight because you were in the hospital with your brains scrambled," Jonathan pointed out. 

"Does it…does it identify…" 

"There's a list of the people who were killed in the crash, but not really anything about them. The article is really about this artist guy who put together the fundraisers. Brian, this artist…he's Justin Taylor. He's the guy from the comic book. The comic is even mentioned in the article." 

"Is…are…were you right about him?" Brian stammered. 

"Not exactly. The article says that he's 'a friend of the late Brian Kinney.' If that's really your face in the painting, then you're Brian Kinney." 

"Brian Kinney," Brian repeated, trying the name out. It felt right on his lips. It was the only thing about this revelation that felt right. "I think I need to lie down," he said weakly. He brushed past Jonathan to shut himself up in his bedroom. 

* 

The following evening, Jonathan came home from work to find Brian shoving his few clothes haphazardly into his backpack. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"Solving world hunger," Brian quipped. "What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" 

"I thought you were supposed to be at work." 

"I took a leave of absence." 

"Took leave of your senses, you mean. Where are you going?" Jonathan asked, trying to step between Brian and the overflowing backpack. 

"Pittsburgh." 

"Pittsburgh? What the fuck is in Pittsburgh?" Jonathan wanted to know. 

"Justin Taylor," Brian replied, fastening the catches on the pack. "And hopefully some answers." 

"How are you getting there? Were you planning on hitchhiking?" 

"Christ, Jonathan. Listen to yourself! You're acting like a jilted lover," Brian snapped. "Or somebody's mother." He snatched up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. 

"I'm just worried, Brian," Jonathan said in a very small voice. 

Brian paused in the doorway and took a deep breath to steady himself. Turning around he forced himself to speak calmly. "I'm taking a bus." 

"Do you have enough money? Do you have a plan? Pittsburgh is a pretty big place. How are you going to find this guy?" 

"I read over the article you found. One of the fundraisers that guy set up is tomorrow night. In Pittsburgh. I figure if I show up there, I'm bound to run into him." 

"And give the guy a heart attack. He thinks you're dead, Brian," Jonathan cautioned. 

"I don't think there is any easy way to explain something like this, and I need to try to get my life back," Brian argued. 

"You can't just waltz into a fundraiser. You have to pay big money to get into those things, or be invited." 

"I'll figure something out." 

Jonathan sighed. "Just be careful, all right? And call me when you get there?" 

Brian nodded. 

"You need a ride to the bus station?" 

"I called a cab. I need to go now." 

Brian let Jonathan hug him goodbye and then walked out the door. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. He had the feeling he wouldn't be back. 

* 

The Greyhound arrived in Pittsburgh in the wee hours of Saturday morning, some twelve hours after leaving the Chicago station. Brian had dozed some, but mostly he had passed the time with thinking or with re-reading the magazine article. By the time he reached Pittsburgh, Brian had the closest thing to a plan he was likely to come up with. He would show up at this fundraiser, and if he couldn't get in he'd hang around outside asking everyone who went in or came out if they knew Justin Taylor. And hope he didn't get tossed in the 'drunk tank' at the local jail. 

From the bus station, Brian hailed another cab. He asked the driver if he knew of any cheap hotels within walking distance of the venue for the fundraiser, and within half an hour he had a key to a shabby room in his hand. The walk would be more like a hike, but the room was in his price range - dirt cheap - and didn't appear to be too terribly filthy. 

Rubbing his hands over his face tiredly, Brian tossed the battered backpack towards the head of the bed. He hesitated for a moment and then decided to live dangerously. He pulled back the sheets, pleasantly surprised to find they were not stained, and crawled between them still fully clothed. 

The next thing he knew, someone was banging on the door and shouting at him in a language he didn't understand. It was check-out time. Snatching up his backpack and the room key, Brian stumbled out the door, the cleaning lady still chattering at him. 

After turning in the key and inquiring about a place to get a cheap meal, Brian began to walk the streets of Pittsburgh. 

* 

He had expected to feel something, being here in this city which the article said was his home. He had expected the memories to come rushing back to him, had expected to know his way around and recognize people and places. After spending the day wandering the streets, the only thing he felt was tired. 

The fundraising event was scheduled to begin at five p.m. Brian managed to get lost more than once on his way to the venue and arrived closer to six. He was dusty and sweaty and probably looked suspicious walking around with a dilapidated backpack thrown over his shoulder, but he didn't care. Fuck 'em. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them or die trying. 

Walking up to the building, Brian noticed a decided lack of guards or ticket-takers at the doors. Mentally crossing his fingers, he shifted the pack on his shoulder, pulled open the door, and stepped inside. The world didn't shift on its axis; no security guards came running to escort him out. Brian let out a breath he had unconsciously been holding. 

Glancing around, he noticed people were simply milling about, looking at artwork and sipping on drinks. Many were wearing cocktail dresses and suits, but others were dressed as plainly as he was. Still others wore flamboyant clothing that would have been better suited to a nightclub. Feeling more confident, he moved farther into the room to begin his search for the man named Justin Taylor. 

* 

Justin stood with a small group of people, his back to the display of his artwork. He had a polite smile carefully pasted on his face and was doing his best to concentrate on making small talk with people he wouldn't normally associate with. Shaking hands with another sympathizer, Justin forced what he hoped were the correct words out of his mouth and mentally counted the minutes until he could escape. 

While Justin would never regret doing what he could to help the other people who had lost loved ones in the crash that had taken Brian's life - other people who's parents or spouses hadn't had the protections that Brian had set up for Justin and Gus - he would forever regret agreeing to actually come to the fundraiser. The last thing he wanted was to hear people tell him how sorry they were that Brian was dead or to look at Brian's face in the paintings he had done for the benefit auction. He was seriously considering finding Nancy - the co-chair of the event - and claiming to have one of his blinding headaches so that he could leave early. 

Justin's eyes swept the room in search of Nancy. His gaze fell instead on a man standing near the front doors. The man was facing away from Justin, but something in the man's stance was somehow familiar. Even in faded, paint-stained jeans and an oversized t-shirt, the man looked good enough to eat. A twinge of guilt tugged at Justin's heart and he tried to look away. He really did try. But something about the man had his senses on alert. 

The man turned, his brows furrowed slightly, and scanned the room. His eyes met Justin's, and Justin forgot to breathe. Whoever the guy was, he looked just like Brian Kinney. 

Justin felt tears burning his eyes, and he was finally able to force himself to look away from the man. Brian was dead, and Justin was just imagining that this stranger looked like Brian because his mind couldn't deal with that fact. 

Turning away, Justin made a decision. He would deal with Nancy later. Right now, he just needed to go home.


	3. Reforged

"Excuse me," Brian said to a young woman standing nearby. "I'm looking for Justin Taylor. Is he here?" 

The girl flashed Brian a million dollar smile and gestured vaguely at a group standing on the other side of the room. "He's the one in the blue shirt," she supplied helpfully. 

Brian thanked her and looked at the man. He had just enough time to think that Justin Taylor was nothing like he had imagined when he realized the man was staring at him. He looked into Justin's eyes and was shocked to see the younger man's composure shatter as tears spilled down his cheeks. Justin looked away and started walking as quickly as he could towards the far exit. 

Without stopping to think, Brian shoved his way through the crowd and out the door in pursuit of the young blond. Once outside, Brian looked around, but there was no sign of Justin anywhere. 

Cursing under his breath, he began to walk again. There was no telling where the guy had gone, so he would be forced to develop a new course of action. 

As Brian stood on the curb debating his choices, a soft sound drifted to him. He held his breath and listened, and when the sound repeated he began to move toward it. A third strangled sob told him he was getting close to the source of the sound. 

Peeking around the corner of the building, Brian found Justin huddled on the ground in the alley, his back against the brick wall. He moved closer cautiously, not wanting to frighten the man. Setting his backpack on the ground, he knelt down at Justin's side. 

"Justin?" 

Justin's head jerked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Brian?" he asked, the question coming out as a piteous whimper. 

"Yeah," Brian replied, afraid to say anything more. 

"Are you real?" Justin asked, reaching out one hand but stopping just short of touching Brian's face. 

"I'm as real as you are," Brian assured him. He took Justin's hand in his and laid the smooth palm against his slightly stubbled cheek. 

"Noooo," Justin howled, the sound low and frightened. He jerked his hand away. "You're not real. I'm imagining you. You can't be Brian. Brian's dead," he raved, his voice edging closer and closer to hysteria. "Why are you pretending to be Brian? What do you want from me? What kind of sick fuck are you?" 

"Calm down," Brian said gently, pulling the broken youth into his arms. "I am Brian, at least I think I am, and I'm not dead. You're not imagining me; you're not hallucinating. Everything's fine." 

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's neck and clung to him, shaking. Eventually he calmed somewhat, and it was then that Brian helped him to his feet. "Let's get you back inside," Brian said. 

"No," Justin replied shakily. "I just want to go home. Please, Brian, can we just go home?" 

Brian bought himself a moment to think by retrieving his backpack. Then he looked at Justin, and the fear and hope in the young man's eyes touched something inside of him. He gently smoothed away Justin's tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

"Justin, Nancy's looking all over for you," a woman's voice called from somewhere to Brian's right. He and Justin both turned to look at the woman, and Brian recognized her at once as the mother of his son. The woman must have recognized him too, because her hand flew up to cover her mouth and her eyes went wide with shock. An instant later, she was crying his name and racing down the sidewalk toward him. 

"Linds," Justin said in a choked voice. If Lindsay was seeing Brian standing here too, then maybe he really wasn't losing his mind. 

The woman paused in her passionate embrace of Brian and drew Justin in for an awkward group hug. "Oh my God, Brian," Lindsay breathed as she leaned back to look at him. 

Brian let himself be hugged for a bit and then he gently pushed the woman away. His own emotions - frustration, mostly - were getting the better of him, and he needed to breathe. "Justin needs to go home," he said. He knew it sounded stupid, but he honestly didn't know what else to say. 

"Not without you," Justin pleaded. 

Brian had no idea what exactly was going on, but he didn't want to be responsible for this kid having a complete mental meltdown. "I'll go with you," he promised, letting the younger man latch onto his arm. "But I think you need to know - I think you both need to know - that I.… Well, I'm pretty fucked up. I woke up in a hospital eight months ago with the worst cast of amnesia any of the doctors there had ever seen. They say that shit like this only happens in movies, that people don't really forget who they are from a blow to the head. But I don't remember much of anything. Or anyone." 

"You remembered us," Lindsay said. 

"No. I recognized your face, but I still don't know your name. I think we have a son together?" 

"Gus," Justin said. "His name is Gus. He's five." 

"Gus," Brian repeated, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upward. 

"And I'm Lindsay," the woman said. 

Brian nodded an acknowledgement and continued his story. "I have no idea of who I am - or who I was. If a friend of mine in Chicago hadn't recognized me in some magazine article, I wouldn't be here. He saw your painting, and he figured out that I'm Brian Kinney. Before that, I couldn't even remember my own name." 

Lindsay took Brian's hand in hers and Justin let go of the older man's arm so that he could rub reassuring circles on his back. There was something familiar in Justin's touch - familiar and very soothing. He found himself lifting his arm to wrap it around Justin's shoulders. 

After a few minutes, Lindsay broke the uneasy silence. "Did you drive?" she asked Justin. 

He shook his head. "I rode with Nancy." 

"I'll tell her you went home," Lindsay offered. "And I'll call a cab for you. I think you two have some things to discuss." 

"Thanks," Justin said. He hugged the woman tightly. 

"I can't believe you're really here," Lindsay said to Brian. She hugged him fiercely and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you both tomorrow." Lindsay made her way back inside, stopping every few steps to look back and make certain that Brian was still there. 

Brian simply stood with his arm around Justin and waited. He was more confused than ever, but right now his own needs were going to have to be pushed aside. Justin needed him, and he just couldn't imagine turning his back on the man. He pulled Justin a little closer, wrapping his other arm around him and tucking the blond head beneath his chin. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect the younger man. He fleetingly wondered who would protect Justin from his protector. 

* 

In the cab, Justin sat as close to Brian as he could without actually sitting in the other man's lap. He was still visibly upset, and Brian felt a twinge of guilt. Jonathan had warned him that his sudden appearance would shock Justin, but Brian had only been thinking of himself. If he had known the man would react this way, though, he would have found a better way to break the news to him. 

Justin pulled a pill bottle from his pocket, and Brian felt another twinge. The younger man's hands were shaking too badly for him to open the small bottle, so Brian gently took it from his hand. 

"Valium?" he asked, looking over the label as he opened the bottle. He shook out one of the pills and gave it to Justin. "One of my doctors in Chicago wanted me to take this shit, but I found better ways of dealing with stress." 

"Drinking and fucking?" Justin's response was a little more hostile than he had intended. He bit back an apology and swallowed his medicine. 

"Blowing shit up," Brian replied. He grinned at the startled expression on Justin's face. "I work off anger by playing really violent video games," he explained. 

Justin let out a little laugh and then covered his mouth. The sound of his own laughter had startled him, but what else could he do? If he didn't laugh, he was going to cry again, and the thought of Brian vegging out in front of "Grand Theft Auto" was kind of amusing. 

"You okay?" Brian asked, bringing his hand up to rub the back of Justin's neck. 

The gesture was meant to be soothing, but it was so familiar - so Brian - that it hurt. Because this man wasn't really Brian. Justin didn't know who he was. He looked like Brian, and he sounded like Brian. Hell, he even smelled like Brian. But he wasn't the man Justin had once shared his life with. 

"I have so many questions," Justin heard himself say. 

"I don't know that I have any answers," Brian admitted. "And I have a lot of questions myself." 

The cab pulled up at their destination then, and the conversation was cut short. Justin paid the driver and then led Brian into the building. They rode up to their floor in silence, and then Justin let them into the loft. 

Brian stepped into the apartment and paused on the threshold, looking around. 

"Shut the door," Justin instructed as he moved to the refrigerator for water. 

Sliding the heavy door shut, Brian hesitantly moved a little farther into the apartment and dropped his backpack on the floor. "It's a really nice place," he said. 

Justin swallowed hard and blinked back tears. "I said the same thing about this place the first time you brought me home with you." 

"This was mine?" Brian asked. He wanted to investigate everything then, in hopes of finding something that he could remember. 

"It still is," Justin said quietly. "Welcome home, Brian." 

Brian shook his head. "You live here now." At least he assumed Justin lived here; he certainly was acting like he was in his own home. 

Justin set his bottle of water aside and rounded the counter to stand in front of Brian. "I lived here before, too, Brian. We lived here together," he explained. 

"We were together?" 

"Yeah," Justin replied. He didn't have the strength to try to explain their non-defined, non-traditional relationship. 

"What about Lindsay? And Gus?" Brian asked, clearly confused. 

"Did you wake up thinking you're straight or something?" Justin asked, grinning in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. 

Brian laughed. "No, not at all. In fact, I was really confused when I remembered about Gus." 

"Lindsay's a friend. You've known each other for a really long time. She wanted a baby, so she cornered you while you were tripping and talked you into being a sperm donor. Romantic, huh?" 

"That explains a lot," Brian replied. He was quiet for a moment, watching Justin's face and collecting his thoughts. "Were we happy?" 

Justin smiled, one of those rare smiles that could light up a room. "Yeah. Yeah, we were." The smile faded and his eyes clouded. "Do you think…do you think, maybe, we can be again?" 

"I really don't know, Justin," Brian answered honestly. He took Justin's hand in his and laced their fingers together, hoping the contact would take some of the sting from his words. "It isn't as if we can just pick up where we left off, because I have no idea where that is. Whatever I felt for you is lost right along with everything else. I might never remember anything." 

"I know. Believe me, I know. I have first hand experience with amnesia. There are still things I don't remember." 

"Then you understand why I can't promise you anything." 

"Yeah, I do. I shouldn't have said anything," Justin replied, turning away slightly. 

Brian took Justin's chin in his free hand and forced him to look up at him. "Yes, you should have," he disagreed. "Never hold something inside because you think I don't want to hear it." 

"This is all just so surreal," Justin said quietly. He covered his eyes with his hand and leaned into Brian's body. 

"Tell me about it," Brian commiserated, wrapping Justin in his arms again. "Waking up with thirty years of your life missing is pretty bad." 

"Thirty-four," Justin corrected automatically. 

Brian huffed a laugh. "All right, thirty-four. But I would imagine that seeing someone come back from the dead is even worse." 

"It is pretty freaky," Justin agreed. 

"I'm sure that my having a blank slate for a brain doesn't help matters any either." 

"It's better than you being dead," Justin whispered. 

Brian squeezed Justin briefly and then carefully disentangled himself from the younger man. He brushed the hair back from Justin's eyes. "I'm going to need your help sorting things out." 

Justin nodded. "I can do that, I think. But not tonight." 

"No, not tonight," Brian agreed. "You should try to sleep. You'll feel better after you rest." 

"I don't want to sleep," Justin protested. 

"I'll still be here when you wake up," Brian assured him. "I promise. Now get your ass in bed. I'm going to get a shower, if I can figure out where the shower is in this place." 

* 

Brian took his time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe as well as clean him. After showering, shaving, and cleaning his teeth, he studied his face in the mirror for a long time and wondering about the man who looked back at him. He finally turned away, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton pants before padding silently out of the steamy bathroom. 

Creeping into the bedroom, Brian found Justin sleeping soundly. Justin's anxiety had eased in sleep, leaving his face relaxed. He looked younger even than before, and Brian found himself wanting to know how he had come to be with this man. So many questions, but for now they would have to wait. 

With a mental sigh, Brian turned his attention away from Justin. He moved as quietly as possibly around the room in search of a blanket, finally finding one in the closet. He snagged an extra pillow from the bed and dumped both the blanket and the pillow on the sofa. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the phone and dialed Jonathan's cell number. The call went to voice mail, and Brian was kind of glad that he didn't have to get involved in a long conversation with the other man. 

"It's Brian. I just wanted to let you know I'm alive and well," he said. "And you were right - just showing up at the fundraiser was a bad idea. I did find Justin Taylor, though. I'll let you know more when I know more. Later." 

Mission accomplished, Brian settled in on the sofa to try to sleep. After what seemed like an eternity, dreams finally began to overtake his conscious mind. In his dreams, he could dimly hear Justin calling his name. 

"Brian?" the voice was soft and questioning. "Brian," he repeated, beginning to sound alarmed. "Brian, where are you?" he asked, his voice rising. 

Something touched Brian's face, and he jerked awake to find Justin kneeling by the sofa with his hand cupping Brian's cheek. There were tears shining in the frightened blue eyes. 

"I thought you'd gone," Justin said quietly. 

Brian turned on his side and awkwardly embraced the other man. "I'm not going anywhere, Justin. I promised, remember?" 

"What are you doing out here on the sofa?" Justin asked. Brian could tell he was fighting to stay calm. 

"I wasn't going to invite myself into your bed," Brian replied lightly. 

"Your bed," Justin corrected. "Our bed." 

If Brian were honest with himself, he had been sorely tempted before to climb into bed with the other man. It certainly would be no hardship for him. "Will you sleep better if I'm there with you?" he asked. 

Justin looked down and nodded slightly, seeming slightly embarrassed to admit to needing Brian's presence. 

Brian reached up and cupped the back of Justin's neck, bringing the blond head down so that he could brush a kiss against Justin's forehead. He dragged himself from the sofa and gave Justin a hand up, grabbed up his pillow, and led Justin back to bed. As he settled in under the duvet, he felt Justin watching him. Something about the expression on the man's face made him uneasy. 

"What?" he asked. 

Justin opened his mouth and then closed it again, shook his head slightly. "Nothing." 

"Tell me." 

"This is going to take some getting used to," Justin admitted sliding into bed beside Brian. 

"Did I do something wrong?" 

"No," Justin replied a little too quickly. At the familiar skeptical expression on Brian's face, Justin amended his answer. "You don't sleep fully clothed. I mean you didn't." 

"I still don't," Brian assured him with a little smirk. "I just thought it would be a good idea under the circumstances." 

Justin smiled a little, then, and mumbled his agreement. He turned to face away from Brian and scooted back to press his body against the other man's. "Is this okay?" 

Brian smiled and wrapped his arm protectively around Justin; it was the only answer Brian gave, and the only answer Justin needed.


	4. Reforged

The next morning, Brian awoke to find Justin lying in bed beside him, propped up on one arm and watching him sleep. He smiled groggily up at the other man and muttered a 'good morning.' Returning the smile, Justin leaned down to capture Brian's mouth with his own. Brian automatically parted his lips beneath Justin's, but the first sweep of Justin's tongue along his own set off some sort of internal alarm. He eased the other man away from him slightly, ending the kiss. Hurt flashed across Justin's face before he managed to pull himself together and paste the cool façade back into place. 

"Justin," Brian murmured soothingly. "You're beautiful, and there is nothing I would like more than to kiss you. Touch you. Taste you. But we both know why I can't. I don't want to do anything to hurt you." He stroked a hand over Justin's hair. 

Justin flopped down on his back on the bed beside Brian and stared up at the ceiling. It was impossible for Brian to read his expression, but he knew the man was hurting. Deciding that the best thing he could do would be to give Justin a little privacy and space, Brian rolled out of bed and wandered off to poke around in the kitchen. 

A short time later, the sound of banging cabinet doors and the smell of coffee and bacon dragged Justin out of the bedroom. 

"What are you doing?" Justin asked, incredulous. 

Brian bit back a sarcastic remark. "Cooking breakfast," he replied mildly. "I hope that's okay." 

"It's…kind of weird. But, yeah, it's okay. It's your kitchen, Brian." 

"Ours," Brian replied automatically. "Why is it weird?" 

"You don't cook. You didn't, I mean." He leaned against the counter watching Brian work. 

"It isn't something I remembered how to do. Irene taught me," Brian explained. 

"Irene?" 

"She was a nurse's aide at the hospital. I didn't have any place to go when they released me, so Irene took me in." 

The phone rang then, and Justin moved away from the kitchen to answer it. 

"Hello? Hey, Lindsay… Yeah, he's still here… Cooking breakfast… Yes, really… Yeah, kind of… I don't know. I'll talk to him… I appreciate that. I don't think anyone else needs to know until I've had a chance to talk to him a little more… I'll call you later. Bye, Linds." 

The two men sat down to breakfast, eating in silence. Only when they had finished eating did Brian finally speak. 

"Any idea who I need to talk to about all the legal stuff involved with my miraculous reappearance? There's a death record out there somewhere that needs to be taken care of and who knows what else." 

"There's no death record. You were considered 'missing;' you were never declared dead," Justin replied quietly. "Which I guess is kind of good. We won't have to deal with the insurance company or anything." 

"What about everything else? Creditors…my bank account…whatever." 

"Melanie was appointed trustee of your estate. She's Lindsay's wife, and she's an attorney. She can help you get everything straightened out. Do you want me to call her?" 

"Does she know I'm not dead?" Brian responded bitterly. 

"Yeah, she does. Lindsay told her. Gus knows, too," Justin said. 

"He does? How the hell do you explain something like this to a five-year-old?" 

"I didn't even think to ask how he handled the news. But he must have taken it okay, because Lindsay wants to bring him over later. I told her I'd talk to you about it." 

"I want to see him," Brian said simply. 

"There are a lot of people who are going to want to see you, Brian." 

"How many is 'a lot'?" 

Justin shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Twenty, maybe?" 

"Fuck. Can we narrow that down to…I don't know, five?" 

Justin laughed. "I don't think so, Brian. Lindsay, Mel, and the kids make four." 

"Kids? Multiple?" 

"Linds had Gus with you, and Mel had Jacob with Michael. Michael's been your best friend since you were kids." 

"Christ, what a fucked up family." 

"You don't know the half of it," Justin said, grinning. 

"I think you'd better fill me in." 

For the next half hour, Justin told Brian about the extended family: Vic and Debbie; Michael, Ben, and Hunter; Emmett; Ted; Daphne; and Justin's mother and sister. He was careful to avoid giving too many details, giving Brian only a vague sketch of the family of friends. He also explained that Brian wasn’t on the best of terms with his own mother and sister. Brian listened attentively, storing the facts away for later. 

When Justin was finished, Brian sat thinking for a moment. "What do _you_ think?" he asked. 

Justin knew what Brian was asking, but he didn't have a good answer. Was there any easy way to explain that Brian was still alive and more or less well? "I can't imagine explaining this over the phone, but I don't want them to…" 

"Experience the same shock you did?" Brian interjected. "I'm sorry about that." 

"I was going to say that I don't want them overwhelming you," Justin replied, giving Brian's hand a gentle squeeze. "They can be a little hard to handle at the best of times." 

"If they can take it, I can take it." Despite the courageous words, Brian looked uncertain. 

"Would you feel better meeting them somewhere else, where we can make a quick getaway? Or would you be more comfortable here?" 

"Here, I think. I've at least had a few hours to get used to this place," Brian decided. 

"I'll make some calls, then," Justin said, getting up from the table. "And don't worry, Brian. I'll be right here with you."


	5. Reforged

Arranging a time when everyone would be available and convincing them all to come to the loft without a reasonable explanation was more difficult and time consuming that Justin would ever have imagined. Eventually, he managed to find a time when most everyone could get together - almost immediately, as it turned out -- and he and Brian sat back to wait. 

Lindsay and Melanie decided to come right over so that Melanie would have time before everyone else arrived to explain the steps needed to clean up Brian's legal mess. When the knock came at the door, Justin gave Brian's hand a reassuring squeeze and moved to let the family inside. 

Gus bounced into the loft ahead of his moms, his eyes scanning the room. The moment he spotted Brian, his small face lit up in a radiant smile. "Dad!" he cried, barreling across the apartment toward his father. 

Brian answered Gus's smile with one of his own, vaulting over the back of the sofa to scoop the small boy up and toss him high in the air before cuddling him close to his chest. 

"Jesus, Brian!" Melanie bitched from the open doorway. "How many times have I told you…." Her words trailed off as she realized what she was saying, and who she was saying it to. 

Brian looked up from his son's face, still grinning. "I guess you'll have to tell me one more time," he replied mildly. 

"I've missed you, Dad," Gus said quietly, drawing his father's attention back to him. In a more confident voice he added, "Mama said you wasn't ever coming home, but I asked God to bring you back and I promised to be good and I tried to be good, but Mama said God couldn't bring you back. But Nanny Jen said God can do anything, and he did. He heared me and he did bring you back." 

Brian tucked Gus's head under his chin and turned his back to the others as he felt tears prick his eyes. 

* 

Melanie quickly explained what would need to be done to get Brian's estate back into his own hands. She also lined out the steps he would need to take to get replacements for his missing Social Security Card and driver's. She opted to leave discussion of Brian's business for another time. 

The influx of information mainly served to give Brian a headache. After a while, he let his attention wander to Gus and Jacob, who were playing some sort of game that involved a lot of hiding under tables and chasing one another around the sofa. He smiled to himself, his eyes tracking every movement his son made. 

Justin's hand on his arm brought Brian out of his awed reverie. He glanced around at the three other adults who were looking at him questioningly and gave them an uncertain smile. "Sorry," he said. 

"It's okay," Justin said, leaning in to press a kiss to Brian's temple. "I was paying attention even you weren't," he teased. 

A few minutes later, someone rapped sharply on the door. Brian stood and turned toward the door, looking for all the world like a man facing a firing squad. Justin gave Brian's hand a reassuring squeeze and heaved a sigh as he went to answer the door, wondering which member of their very unique family was standing on the other side and how he or she would react to the sight of Brian standing there in the middle of the loft. 

Lindsay had accepted Brian's sudden reappearance as she accepted any bit of good fortune: with good grace seasoned with a touch of teen-like exuberance. Gus' innocence and faith had made it easy for him to deal with his father's return, and Melanie - well, Melanie probably thought it was all some nefarious plot on Brian's part, but at least she was being calm and reasonable. Justin doubted that he could expect serene acceptance from anyone else. 

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he reached for the door. 

He slid it open to reveal a tall, leggy blonde woman and a worried looking man with dark hair. Brian studied them, unobserved, as the woman immediately fell into conversation with Justin. 

"What's this about, Justin?" the woman asked. "I know you said that it's important, but I really hate leaving Barry in charge of the agency and Ted and I have to be back for a meeting this afternoon. We're meeting with….oh my fucking God," the woman's tone changed in an instant from completely professional to utterly awestruck as she noticed Brian standing near the sofa. 

"Bri?" the man next to her asked, unable to believe his eyes. 

Brian gave them a small, nervous smile. The woman slowly bridged the distance between the two of them, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors of the loft. Brian wasn't sure what to expect - to be hugged, or kissed, or cried over, or what. What he wasn't expecting was for the woman to smack him - hard - on the chest with the flat of her hand. 

"You shit!" she cried. "I thought you were dead. I was so fucking pissed at you because you wouldn't let me go to Chicago with you, and then they told us your plane went down, and I was glad you made me stay behind, but, oh God, Brian, we thought you were dead!" she said all in one breath before dissolving into tears. 

Brian reached out awkwardly to try to comfort her. He had no idea who this woman was, what their relationship might be, or what the hell she was talking about. Still, he hated to see her cry. It didn't seem like the sort of thing a woman like her would do very often, and he didn't like being the cause of her tears. 

The man who had come in with the blonde stepped up and took over the task of comforting her. When her tears stopped, the explanations began; Justin quickly recounted the events of the previous evening, leaving out the more emotional details, and explained about Brian's amnesia. 

"Jesus, Bri," the dark-haired man exclaimed. "What happened?" 

Brian crossed his arms across his chest and half-sat, half-leaned on the back of the sofa. "Like Justin said, I woke up in a hospital without any idea of who I was. The guy who called 911 said I got hit by a car while crossing the street, and some punk kids robbed me before the EMTs showed up." 

"Why didn't he stop them?" Lindsay asked. 

"He's confined to a wheelchair. There wasn't much he could do," Brian explained. At Lindsay's understanding nod, Brian continued. "Anyway, I had no identification of any kind - no wallet, no business card, nothing. After a day or two, I did manage to remember that my name is Brian, but that's about it." He paused for just a moment, and then gave the two strangers a pointed look. "I still don't remember much. I have no idea who you are." 

"Oh shit!" Cynthia exclaimed. "Of course you don't. I'm Cynthia, and this is Ted. We…uh… we work for you." 

"Actually, they've been running your agency for the last eight months," Justin corrected. 

"Agency?" 

"Kinnetic," Ted chimed in. "It's an advertising agency." 

"Kinnetic," Brian repeated, looking thoughtful. "And you two have been running it in my absence?" 

"At Justin's request, yes," Cynthia replied carefully. 

"How's that been going?" 

"Really well, actually. We've brought in some new high profile clients, increased earnings by a fair percentage..." Cynthia began. 

"Which isn't to say it won't be great to have you back," Ted added. 

Brian laughed wryly. "I know shit about advertising, Ted. I may not be back. At least not in whatever capacity I was before." 

"Don't dismiss it out of hand, Brian," Lindsay told him. "Maybe you remember more about the business than you realize." 

"Maybe," he conceded. 

Just then there was another knock at the door. Justin turned to go, but a touch from Brian stopped him. Without a word, Brian took a deep breath and went to answer the door. 

"He's going to give someone a fucking heart attack," Cynthia warned. 

Justin just shrugged. If Brian wanted to answer his own door, he wasn't going to stop him. 

Brian slid back the heavy door and there was an earsplitting shriek from the other side. An instant later his arms were full of a very tall, very weepy man. 

"Em…Emmett…get off him. Let him breathe," Justin said, coming to Brian's rescue. 

Emmett immediately turned his attention to hugging Justin breathless. "It's a miracle," he breathed. "I've actually witnessed a real life miracle. Brian, honey, where have you been?" 

"In Chicago with my brains scrambled," Brian answered. Turning to Justin, he said "How many times are we going to have to explain all this?" 

Justin dragged Emmett into the loft and shut the door and then began the explanations again. Emmett dabbed at his teary eyes. "Scrambled brains or not, it's good to have you back," he said with a smile. 

"Yeah, it is," Justin murmured, his voice pitched so that only Brian could hear him. 

Brian wrapped his arm around the blond's shoulders and pulled him close. Glancing down at his son, who had come running to see 'Auntie Em,' Brian smiled. "It's good to be back," he said.


	6. Reforged

For the next little while, the adults chatted amongst themselves, asking Brian and Justin questions and offering suggestions for getting Brian's life back on track. Occasionally Lindsay, Melanie, or Brian would break away from the group to tend to the children. Brian never noticed the raised eyebrows that accompanied his overt interest in not only Gus but Jacob as well. 

Before, he had been content as a part-time dad and left most of the child-minding to Gus's mommies or to Jacob's daddies. But he didn't remember that. He had only a few memories of Gus - just brief images and jolts of emotion. He remembered the feeling of awe and overwhelming love when he held Gus for the first time. The blind terror when Gus was sick enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room. The pride he felt watching the boy take his first steps. The sheer joy of having the child reach for him and say 'Up, Dada' for the first time. Gus's contagious laughter when Brian would throw him up in the air and catch him. 

He found himself wanting to experience those things again. Even if he had realized that it was wildly out of character for him to be totally entranced by his small son, he wouldn't have cared. He'd lost five years of Gus's life. He had a lot of lost time to make up for. 

** 

Michael arrived with his entourage just as Melanie and Lindsay were heading home to put the boys down for a much needed nap. The flurry of activity gave Brian a moment to study the newcomers before they noticed his presence. 

There were two men about his age and a teenaged boy, none of whom seemed familiar to Brian. He couldn't help a sudden surge of jealousy when the teen hugged Justin and then stood at the blond's side, his arm slung around Justin's shoulders. 

He forced his eyes away and focused on the faces of the older man and woman who had come in behind the teenager and the couple. The brash redheaded woman caused something to shift and try to surface in his memory, but just as quickly the feeling faded again. The man beside her, however... 

Pain. Worse than before. Worse than anything he'd ever felt. Blood everywhere. Stumbling down a dark street. Collapsing, with barely enough strength to reach out and tap his knuckles against the door. Light suddenly pouring out into the dark night. Strong hands gently lifting him.... 

"Vic," Brian mouthed silently. He leaned heavily against the back of the sofa, overwhelmed by images and feelings. He slowly sank to his knees as the memories continued to assault him. 

Hiding in his sister's closet, behind her long Sunday dresses, the corner of a box jabbing painfully into his sore ribs but the need for absolute silence causing him to hold still, his hands clapped over his mouth and nose to mute the sound of his breathing. His father shouting and slamming things around, looking for him. Hoping, praying that Jack would just drink himself unconscious and forget Brian even existed. Blinking in the sudden spill of light as the closet door flies opened. Crying out in pain and fear as he's jerked out hard enough to dislocate his shoulder. Begging his dad not to hurt him anymore.... 

"Brian? Brian? What's wrong with him?" Michael asked, kneeling down beside his friend. 

"Give him room, Michael," Justin said. When Michael didn't respond, Justin pulled him away from the shaken man. "I said give him some room," he ground out. 

"Calm down!" Michael snapped. 

Justin ignored the other man and crouched down near Brian, close enough to touch him but far enough away to give him some space. "Brian," Justin said gently. 

Brian reached out blindly for Justin, grasping his hand and holding it tightly. Justin cautiously moved closer and sat down on the floor facing Brian. Brian took full advantage of Justin's nearness, edging forward slightly and leaning into the warm comfort of the other man's body. Justin wrapped his arms around Brian, rubbing reassuring circles on his back. 

Brian was vaguely aware of Cynthia, Ted, and Emmett explaining his sudden reappearance to the others. 

"What just happened?" someone asked. 

"He remembered something," Vic answered quietly. 

"How the hell do you know that?" the redhead asked loudly. 

Vic didn't answer. Instead he joined the two men on the floor. "Welcome home, Brian," he said with a smile. He was rewarded with a half-smile from Brian as he reached out to take Vic's hand. 

The older man brushed his free hand over Brian's hair, amazed at how much this man still looked like the broken fourteen year old boy he had first met. 

"I think I need to be alone for a while," Brian told Justin, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

"Why don't you go lie down?" Justin suggested. 

Brian nodded but made no move to get up. 

The teenaged boy that had come in with Vic and the others wandered over and held out his hand to Brian. Brian hesitated for a moment before taking it, allowing the boy to help him to his feet. 

"I'm Hunter," the kid said, offering Justin a hand up as well. 

Brian just kind of nodded again and let Justin lead him into the bedroom. 

When Justin emerged a short time later, he looked as wiped as Brian had. 

"This is so hard," he said to no one in particular. 

Hunter slung his arm around Justin's shoulders again. He wanted to offer some brilliant words of wisdom, but he had none, and his usual smartass comments just wouldn't be appropriate. 

* 

When Brian awoke, the apartment was quiet and mostly empty. He was glad to see that everyone had gone but Justin, who was standing near the window staring out into the darkness. 

"Hey," Brian said softly, resting his chin on Justin's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the blond's waist. 

"Hey," Justin replied, turning his head slightly to rub his cheek against Brian's. "You okay now?" 

"Yeah. I'm sorry about earlier." 

"Don't be. I understand. I've been there," Justin explained. "Do you want to tell me about it?" 

"Not especially. I'd rather not think about it." 

Justin sighed and turned in Brian's embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around Brian's ribcage and pressing his face into the curve of his neck. 

Brian slid his hand up to the back of the other man's head, letting his fingers tangle in the blond silk of Justin's hair before coming to rest wrapped around the back of his neck. "Would it have been better if I had stayed gone?" he asked quietly. 

"What?" Justin cried, pulling back to look up at Brian. "Brian....no. No. Part of me died when they told me you were gone. My entire fucking life fell apart that day. Even if...even if you never remember, even if you can't...can't ever feel for me the way you did before, at least I know you're alive, Brian," he stammered out. "At least I know." 

Brian pulled the younger man back into his embrace, guiding the blond head to his shoulder. "So you're glad I'm back, even if I am a fucking mess?" he teased. 

"You've always been a fucking mess, Brian," Justin replied with a shaky smile. "But yeah, I'm glad you're back."


	7. Reforged

Brian lay quietly in bed with a sleeping Justin snuggled in his arms. Between the tension that rested in a tight coil in the pit of his stomach and the long nap he'd had, sleep had no chance of claiming him. Instead, he stared up into the darkness, replaying the memories that had surfaced earlier in the day. He noticed as he did so that they had triggered other memories; he had been too shaken earlier to realize exactly how much he had actually recalled. 

Even with the new memories, Brian knew very little about his past. He could count the number of truly familiar faces on one hand with digits left over. Well, one digit anyway. Of the people who had visited the loft, he had immediately recognized three - Gus, Lindsey, and Vic - and thanks to the influx of memories, he could vaguely place Debbie in his history as well. 

Based on the information that Justin had given him before the ill-fated meeting, Brian surmised that the others who had come in with Vic were his childhood friend Michael and Michael's boyfriend. And the kid had introduced himself - Hunter, if Brian remembered correctly. He wondered if he would be able to keep them all straight in his head. 

Feeling the need to burn off some of the nervous energy that continued to course through him, Brian eased out of Justin's embrace and slipped out of bed. Silently padding into the living room, Brian switched on a few lights and carefully inspected the loft in a way that he hadn't yet had the opportunity to do. Nothing seemed familiar. 

With a frustrated sigh, Brian sank down onto the sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck and wished for…he wasn't sure what. Pulling his feet up onto the edge of the sofa, he let himself sink back into the deep cushions. 

"Can't sleep?" 

Brian startled slightly at the unexpected sound of Justin's voice. "Obviously not," he snarked. He let his head drop back and ran a hand over his face. "Shit. I don't need to start taking this out on you. Come here," he apologized, holding his hand out in invitation. 

Justin stepped closer and took Brian's hand. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked with a playful smirk, his tone of voice a not-so-subtle invitation. 

Forcing down the urge to accept Justin's unspoken offer - to grab Justin and do who-knows-what to him - Brian smiled cheekily up at the younger man. "I don't know. Why don't we see what we can come up with?" 

* 

"Hunter! Phone!" Michael called. 

Hunter sauntered out of his room, in no hurry, and reached to take the phone from Michael with a slightly bewildered expression. 

"It sounds like Justin," Michael explained. 

"Hey, man, what's up?" Hunter asked, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear. There was a long pause as he listened. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. "Yeah, I can do that. You know they won't give a shit." Another pause. "You don't have to…okay, that works. See ya." Hunter hung up the phone and, without a word of explanation to Michael who was obviously waiting for information, he meandered back into his bedroom. 

Michael looked to Ben who merely shrugged. He was considering going and badgering Hunter about the call when Hunter wandered back into the living room and started stuffing things into his backpack. 

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, thoroughly confused. 

"I'm going to Justin's," Hunter answered. 

"I thought he didn't want anyone over there." 

Hunter shrugged, not looking up. "I guess he changed his mind." 

"Why do you need all that to go hang out with Justin?" Michael asked. 

Neither he nor Ben said anything about the lateness of the hour; in the eight months since the plane crash, it had become increasingly common for Hunter to spend time at the loft. Sometimes he didn't bother coming home for a day or two, but since his foster parents knew he was safe - and since Justin seemed to really need him around - they had done nothing to discourage the visits. 

Ben's brows furrowed as he watched the proceedings. "I thought Justin wasn't into video games?" 

Hunter closed up his bag and slung it onto his shoulder as he stood up. "It's not that he isn't into them. In fact, he thinks it would be cool to design the graphics for them. He just can't play them anymore because of his gimp hand." Before Ben could correct him on his lack of tact, he held up his hand. "His words, not mine. Anyway, he said bring the Playstation, so…" he shrugged. 

"When will you be home?" Michael asked, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"Dunno. I'll call and let you know something. Now can I go? My cab's probably waiting," Hunter replied. He doubted that the taxi had arrived already, but he wanted to get away before Michael could ask any more questions that he didn't want to answer. 

"Stay out of trouble," Ben said affectionately, giving his boy a brief hug. "And tell Justin we're here if he needs anything." 

"And Brian, too," Michael said. 

Hunter heaved a much put-upon sigh. "I'm sure they know. I gotta go." 

Once outside, Hunter leaned back against the building and waited for his taxi to show up. He had managed to get out of the apartment without saying anything that would set Michael off - a miracle under the current circumstances. All he had heard all day was 'Brian this' and 'Brian that' and how great it was to have his best friend back. He -Michael- had nearly taken Ben's head off for suggesting that there might be more to the situation than meets the eye, that the guy in Justin's loft might not be Brian Kinney at all. 

Of course, Vic had shut down that line of thinking, pointing out that Brian's reaction to seeing him was too strange to be anything but genuine. The episode had reminded him of Gus's first birthday party, and the way that Justin had freaked out when his memories of the bashing suddenly surfaced. He was completely convinced that Brian's strange behavior was an authentic reaction to an unexpected influx of buried memories. 

As for Hunter, he figured if it walked like Brian Kinney and talked like Brian Kinney, it must be Brian Kinney - even if he didn't exactly act like Brian Kinney. 

One thing was for certain, unless Brian got his memory back - and quickly - Michael was going to be hell to live with. 

* 

When Justin awoke, the first thin light of dawn was streaming in through the loft windows. Before he was even fully aware that he was alone in the bed, he heard Hunter's laughter and the low rumble of Brian's voice. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled out of bed and staggered into the living room. 

"Have you slept at all?" he asked, sliding down onto the sofa beside Brian and letting his hand rest on the other man's back. 

"Who needs sleep when you have Mountain Dew?" Hunter wisecracked. 

"Shit," Justin muttered. He slumped back on the sofa and closed his eyes. 

Brian nudged him with his elbow. "Go back to bed," he suggested. 

Justin cracked open one eye. "You coming?" 

Hunter laughed. "That's a loaded question," he noted. 

Justin couldn't help laughing. He leaned in and kissed Brian's cheek. "You should seriously consider getting some sleep," he said. 

Brian murmured his agreement and stood, stretching the kinks out of muscles that ached from sitting too long in front of the television, and offered Justin a hand up. He bid Hunter goodnight and thanked him as he and Justin made their way back to the bedroom. 

* 

"I know you didn't hear much of what Mel was saying yesterday," Justin told Brian over breakfast, "but what it comes down to is that you'll have to wait until Monday to start the process of getting things in order." 

"That sucks. Why's he gotta wait?" Hunter asked, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

"Social Security office is closed on weekends, and he needs his Social Security card to get his driver's license. He needs his driver's license to access his bank accounts.you see where this is going," Justin explained. "I'm just glad that Melanie agreed to handle all the legal red-tape. I wouldn't even know where to begin." 

"What else is there?" Brian asked. 

Justin was quiet for a minute, clearly troubled. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "Mel and Debbie handled everything after.... Well, when you didn't come home. And we were both kind of distracted when Mel was explaining things yesterday." 

"I thought you said you were paying attention," Brian said, his tone gently teasing. 

Looking up from his cereal, Justin gave Brian a half-hearted smile and a slight shrug. "I heard the part where Melanie said she'd take care of it." 

Brian smiled back at Justin and rubbed the back of the younger man's neck, running his fingers through the longish hair at the nape. "I seem to remember her saying we'd need to locate a few things." 

Justin nodded. "Yeah. Your birth certificate, some documents related to the agency.... It should all be in the lockbox in the closet." 

With a slight nod of acknowledgment, Brian headed to retrieve the box. He spared a moment to glance around the closet, wondering why it couldn't be like the ones in Irene's house - jammed full of boxes of mementos. Lockbox in hand, Brian shut the closet door and returned to the table. Justin appeared at his side a moment later with the key, and Brian said a silent prayer that there would be more inside than just a stack of legal documents. 

He wasn't the least surprised when said prayer went unanswered. 

With an inward sigh, he began to dig through the paperwork. A minute later, he gave a slight chuckle and flashed a small blue card at Justin. "One down," he said. 

Justin took the card from Brian's hand and studied it, as if he hadn't immediately recognized it as Brian's Social Security card. Hunter snatched it out of Justin's hand and shot him a grin. "Looks like he won't have to wait `til Monday after all."


	8. Reforged

When Justin and Brian returned to the loft from the DMV, they found Hunter completely engrossed in an action-adventure movie on TV. He turned his attention away from the movie just long enough to point out that there was no food in the apartment. After a moment's deliberation, Justin decided to take advantage of Brian's newfound ambivalence towards carbs and fat and ordered pizza. 

Once the movie was over and the few leftover slices of pizza had been put into the fridge, Hunter finally turned his attention to Brian and Justin. 

"I've been thinking about what we could do to help Brian get his memory back. I read in this book...." 

"No," Brian cut him off harshly. "Thanks, Hunter," he added in a more civil tone, "but I don't think that trying to jog my memory is a good idea." He took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled. "I'm not sure I want to remember," he admitted quietly. 

Justin bit his lip and turned his head so that Brian couldn't see his face, but not before Brian caught a glimpse of the stricken expression on the younger man's face. 

"Justin," Brian said gently, sliding his arm around the blond's shoulders. "It has nothing to do with you." 

"Is it because of whatever it was you remembered yesterday?" Hunter asked. "Vic said that's why you freaked out when we came in - because something triggered a memory. He figured it had to be something bad." 

Justin turned in Brian's embrace, looking up at the older man. He gently touched Brian's cheek. "What was it, Brian?" 

Brian leaned into Justin's touch and closed his eyes. "It was...." He paused, trying to find the words. "My parents," he began, and then faltered again, not knowing how to put the horrible memories into words. 

"Brian," Justin whispered, his tone filled with sorrow. He wrapped his arms around Brian, one going around the man's waist to draw him closer and the other twisting around his shoulder so that Justin could tangle his fingers in Brian's hair and draw his head down. He nuzzled Brian's neck, letting his head rest in the curve of Brian's throat, silently offering the man compassion and sympathy. "You don't have to tell me; I know. I know." 

Turning his head slightly, Brian buried his face in the softness of Justin's hair. The faint scent of the man's shampoo was familiar and comforting, as was the warmth and solidity of the body pressed against his own. 

If all of his memories could be of moments like this, Brian would fight with everything he had to get them back. But if the nightmarish visions of yesterday were what he had to look forward to, then he would be accepting of - even grateful for - the blank spots in his memory. 

* 

Later in the evening, Hunter decided that he should head back home to work on a project for school. Brian, thrilled to have his driver's license again and eager for a little more time behind the wheel of his vintage Corvette, offered to give him a ride. 

A short time later, Brian parked the 'Vette outside of Michael's apartment building. 

"Thanks for the ride," Hunter said. He unfastened his seatbelt but made no move to climb out of the car. 

Leaning back in his seat, Brian turned his head slightly and gave Hunter a questioning look. 

"There are some things I think you should know," Hunter said. 

"Look, I told you..." Brian began, only to be cut off again. 

"This is different," the teenager insisted. "It's about Justin." 

Brian said nothing; he merely turned the ignition to 'off' and stared out the windshield, waiting. 

Hunter took a deep breath, and began to speak. "After we got the news about the plane crash, everything kind of went crazy. Everyone was walking around like they were dead inside, crying over the littlest thing. But not Justin. He just kept saying that you couldn't be dead, that he would know if you were dead. 

"That went on for a long time. He would get angry if anyone said you were dead - I mean really fucking angry. He'd just kind of lose it. He wasn't coping well at all. 

"Eventually, Justin's mom and Vic and Ben convinced Justin to see a shrink, and for a while he seemed to be doing a lot better. But then one day a few months ago, Debbie dragged me over to the loft to check up on him, and he was just laying there in the bed, curled up like a little kid, just staring into space. He wouldn't answer when she talked to him - not even when she yelled at him. He never showed any sign that he knew we were there. 

"Debbie called Justin's mom and all of a sudden it seemed like just about everyone we knew showed up at the apartment. They were talking about sticking him a psych ward somewhere, and the whole thing kind of freaked me out. 

"I don't really know what made me do it, but I ended up crawling into bed beside him, where I had to be in his line of sight...." He paused for breath. 

"What happened?" Brian asked, his voice low and not completely steady. 

"He hit me," Hunter said with a small grin. 

"He what?" 

"He hit me. Well, slapped me. Basically told me that I was on your side of the bed an to get the fuck off. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided to tell him I wasn't moving. So he tried to beat the shit out of me." 

"Jesus," Brian breathed. 

"Ben pulled him off of me, and all the fight went out of him. He just kind of went limp in Ben's arms and started crying. I didn't think he was ever gonna stop. 

"Anyway, the point is that he was in denial for a long time, and accepting that you were dead nearly broke him. He admitted to hearing your voice even though he was alone and mistaking people for you and all sorts of shit. He was really fucked up. And you showing up like this.... I mean, we're all glad you're back, Brian, but it's a big adjustment - especially for Justin. So..just be careful, okay? Don't hurt him." 

"The last thing I would want to do is hurt him. I might not remember anything about him, or about our life together, but...it's strange - even though I don't remember him, I still feel like I've known him my whole life. From the first few minutes after I found him at the fundraiser, I've just felt this need - this compulsion - to protect him. Hell, just to be near him." Brian sighed and let his head loll back against the seat. 

For a moment, the only sounds were the popping of the cooling engine and the chorus of early evening sounds from the neighborhood. Then Hunter opened the door and got out of the car. As an afterthought, he leaned down and said "If you wanna come up, I'm sure Michael would like to see you." 

Brian shook his head. "Not now." 

"Yeah. I'll try to make him leave you guys alone tonight." 

"Thanks," Brian answered with a tight, forced smile. 

"No problem," Hunter responded. The door slammed shut, and Hunter bounded inside the apartment building. 

Brian sat for a long time thinking over what Hunter had told him before he finally started the car and headed for home.


	9. Reforged

When Brian arrived back at the loft, Justin was once again standing in front of the huge living room window, staring out at the city beyond. Brian shut the door behind him and locked it before moving to stand behind Justin. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Justin’s narrow waist and leaned his head down to brush his lips against the younger man’s temple.

Justin leaned back into the familiar, comforting embrace and sighed softly. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Brian murmured in Justin’s ear. “For what I said about not wanting to remember.”

“I understand,” Justin said quietly. “If I could forget the past eight months....”

Brian gently turned Justin to face him and tilted the blond’s chin up so that their eyes met. He stood for a long time, just looking down at the younger man, thinking about what Hunter had told him. 

For someone who had been to the brink of madness and back, Justin Taylor seemed incredibly ‘together.’ Brian might never know who he had once been, but he did know that he was very grateful that he had been lucky enough to find such an amazingly strong man to share his life with. Without Justin, he’d still be stuck in Irene’s house in Chicago, with nothing but a head full of questions.

Brian dipped his head towards Justin’s, pausing with their faces only inches apart as if silently asking permission. Justin’s eyes slipped closed and he leaned forward slightly, permission granted, and then Brian was leaning in to press their mouths together.

The kiss started out hesitant, but quickly became heated as Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck and darted his tongue out to tease Brian’s lips apart. Brian shoved aside his misgivings, overwhelmed by the need for comfort, the need to connect on some deep, primal, instinctual level with the extraordinary man wrapped in his arms, and gave himself over completely to the feelings coursing through him. Tangling his fingers in Justin’s spun-silk hair, he took control of the kiss, his tongue sliding deftly into Justin’s mouth to caress Justin’s own.

The two lost themselves in the kiss, their mouths and hands moving ceaselessly, remapping every bit of one another’s bodies that they could reach.

It was only when Justin moved away slightly to pull Brian’s t-shirt off that Brian noticed the other man’s tears. Carefully, tenderly, Brian reached out to wipe the tears away.

“Maybe we shouldn’t....” he began.

Justin hushed Brian with a gentle touch to his lips. “Don’t talk,” he murmured. “Just feel.” And then he was leaning in again, his hot, wet tongue painting a glistening trail from just below Brian’s ear to the hollow at the base of his throat. 

Brian gasped and clutched Justin to him as the younger man continued to lick and nip his way down Brian’s body. Brief flashes of memory fought their way to the surface of Brian’s mind, only to be shoved away roughly as he fought to stay in the now and concentrate only on the exquisite feelings Justin was exciting in him.

When Justin’s nimble fingers moved to unfasten Brian’s jeans, Brian pushed the younger man’s hands away. Justin looked up at him then, his expression confused and slightly worried.

“Come here,” Brian said, his voice husky with lust.

Justin stood, and Brian claimed the blond’s mouth again in a bruising kiss. Justin moaned into the kiss, and then Brian was pulling away.

With a feral smile, Brian grabbed Justin by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the bedroom.


	10. Reforged

Once in the bedroom, Brian jerked Justin's shirt off over his head and pushed him down onto the bed. With a sensuous smile, he crawled up the bed to cover Justin's body with his own, his smile becoming rather smug as the younger man arched beneath him, pressing their bodies more firmly together. 

With infuriating self-control, Brian dipped his head nearer Justin's, teasing the blond's full lips with the tip of his tongue. When Justin tried to pull the older man closer for a real kiss, Brian pulled away, grinning at Justin's frustrated groan. A moment later he gave in to the undisguised hunger in the piercing blue eyes, diving in to capture his young lover's mouth in a soul-searing kiss. 

And then he was pulling away again, rolling off of Justin and sitting up, resting on his heels, his hands making quick work of the fastenings on Justin's jeans. He wrestled them down over the blond's hips and then paused to mouth his hard cock through the thin cotton of his briefs, smiling at the feral growl that the simple act drew from his young lover. Within seconds, he had stripped off Justin's jeans and briefs and was kneeling at the end of the bed, still half-clothed. 

He lowered his head to tickle Justin's toes with the tip of his tongue. Justin's foot jerked slightly, but Brian held it firmly in his hands and began to lap and suck at the blond's toes, delighting in his soft moan of pleasure. He moved upward slightly, pressing kisses to Justin's instep and then his ankle. With agonizing slowness, Brian inched his way up his lover's body, licking, kissing, sucking, and nibbling. He nipped gently at Justin's inner thighs, reveling in the way the man's body shuddered when he did so. 

Glancing up, Brian saw that Justin's eyes were squeezed shut, his hands fisted in the sheets as he panted. Smirking, Brian lowered his head back to his lover's body, sucking at the hollow of Justin's hip. Taking great care not to inadvertently rub against the blond's weeping cock, Brian ran his tongue up from his navel to his breastbone. He lapped at one pink nipple and then sucked it into his mouth as he firmly rolled the other between his fingertips. 

After a brief exploration of Justin's neck, Brian pressed his lips to Justin's panting mouth, coming full circle. Justin arched, rubbing his weeping erection against the rough denim of Brian's jeans, desperate for contact. Justin's hands found their way to Brian's fly, but Brian pushed them away again, impatient, and quickly shucked off the last of his clothes. 

Again he covered Justin's body with his own, his own pleasured moan joining Justin's at first sensation of flesh sliding against heated flesh. They shared another lingering, passionate kiss, and Justin rolled his hips, grateful for the sweet friction of his cock rubbing against Brian's, enjoying the feel of Brian's body sliding against his own. He rolled his hips again, and Brian pressed down firmly against him, gasping. 

Over the rush of blood in his ears and his and Justin's soft sounds of pleasure, Brian could hear the phone ringing. He paused and glanced over his shoulder toward the living room, where the sound was coming from. 

Justin turned Brian's face back toward his own. "The machine will get it," he said, leaning up to press his mouth to Brian's again. 

Just as Brian was beginning to lose himself in Justin's kisses again, he heard the answering machine pick up. 

And his own voice telling the caller to leave a message. 

He froze, staring down at Justin, who looked back at him with both embarrassment and abject horror in his eyes. Brian opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and shook his head. He rolled off of Justin and slid from the bed, snatching up his jeans as he silently made his way back to the living room. 

Brian dropped down onto the sofa and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. 

"Brian?" Justin called voice, his voice not quite steady. 

From the corner of his eye, Brian could see the blond hovering nearby. With a sigh, he lifted his head and looked up at him. He was grateful that the younger man had covered himself, even if the deep blue silk robe didn't leave much to the imagination. 

"I'm sorry," he said levelly. 

Justin wrapped his arms around himself and bit his lower lip. He looked as if he didn't know whether to cry or break something. 

Brian looked away again. "I just don't want to do anything to hurt you." 

"And you think you're not hurting me now?" Justin snapped. 

Taking a deep breath, Brian refused to let his temper get the best of him. "I need more time," he said. "Especially since..." He shook his head. "Nevermind. I just think we both need a little more time to...deal with things." 

His expression softening from hurt to concern, Justin came to sit beside Brian. "Especially since what, Brian?" he asked softly, bringing his hand up to rub the other man's spine comfortingly. 

"Especially since I kept seeing other men's faces every time I closed my eyes," Brian answered, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

To his surprise, Justin smiled fondly at him. "Is that all?" he teased. He stopping rubbing Brian's back, wrapping his arm around the older man's shoulders. 

Brian huffed a laugh and leaned ever so slightly into Justin's embrace. 

"I know you can't control what you remember, Brian, or when you remember it," Justin murmured soothingly. 

Turning his head slightly, Brian searched Justin's face, noticing how the carefully constructed smile didn't quite hide the hurt in the sad blue eyes. "Why, Justin?" he found himself asking quietly. 

Justin looked away, but not quickly enough to conceal the tears that sprang to his eyes. He knew Brian was asking about his leaving the answering machine message unchanged all these months. "I thought it was the only way I'd ever hear your voice again," he rasped. 

Brian pulled Justin into a tight embrace, and the two men clung to each other for a long time, Justin crying silently against Brian's neck.


	11. Reforged

The moment passed, eventually, and Justin excused himself to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face while Brian checked the message on the answering machine. He had been too wrapped up in his guilt at nearly taking advantage of Justin to pay much attention when the call first came through.

“God, that’s weird, Brian. Wasn’t expecting to hear your voice on the machine,” Jonathan’s voice chirped when he hit ‘play.’ “Anyway, I got your message and wanted to check on you. Give me a call. Bye.”

Brian immediate picked up the phone and dialed Jonathan’s number. Jon answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jonathan. It’s Brian. I got your message,” Brian said, sprawling on the sofa. He looked up to see Justin hesitating in the doorway of the bedroom and beckoned to him.

“Brian! I’m glad you called. How’s Pittsburgh?”

Brian smiled as he sat up a little and pulled Justin down on top of him. “It’s all right,” he said, grinning as Justin snuggled against him.

“So when are you coming back?”

“I’m not,” Brian said matter-of-factly, reaching up to comb his fingers through Justin’s hair.

“What do you mean you’re not coming back?” Jonathan cried.

Brian held the phone away from his ear, wincing at the sudden change in volume. He forced himself to breath and counted to five before answering. “My life is here, not in Chicago. I’ve got a son, and friends. A business. A closet full of Armani.” He paused, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders. “And I have Justin,” he added quietly.

“Justin Taylor? What is he to you, anyway?” Jonathan wanted to know.

“The love of my life, apparently,” Brian replied lightly. He grinned at Justin’s sudden smile.

“The love of....holy shit, Brian.”

“Yeah. I know. Now do I see why I say I’m not coming back?”

For a moment there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Then Jonathan said, “I’m glad you’re getting your life back, Brian. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He paused a moment. “How are things in the glorious city of Chicago?”

The two friends engaged in a few minutes of small talk and then Brian made his excuses, said goodbye, and turned off the phone. He led Justin back to bed, this time to sleep. 

Justin curled into the warmth and security of Brian’s body and fell asleep almost at once. For Brian, sleep was more evasive. He lay awake for a long time, thinking back over the events of the evening. He wanted to do whatever was best for Justin, whatever would ease the transition to having Brian back in his life. The problem was, he had no idea what that might be.

*

The next morning, Brian awoke with a start, unsure what had disturbed his sleep. Beside him, Justin still slept soundly. A minute or two later, he heard someone rapping at the front door and knew instantly what had awakened him. Glancing at the clock, he groaned inwardly. Who the hell had the audacity to come knocking on his door at nine o’clock on Sunday morning?

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Brian climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping blond. He tugged on yesterday’s jeans and stumbled towards the door.

Opening the heavy steel door, Brian found himself facing the man who had, according to what he’d been told, been his closest friend for the last two decades. 

Stifling the urge to fling invective at the other man, Brian leaned sleepily against the open door and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I brought coffee,” Michael offered a bit sheepishly, holding up a large brown paper bag. “And those really good cream cheese danish things that you won’t admit to liking but always eat when no one’s looking.”

Brian gave Michael a blank stare and gestured him towards the kitchen. Michael immediately moved to spread his offering on the counter. Shutting the door, Brian mentally counted to ten before joining his friend.

Deciding that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to go off on Michael for waking him so early, Brian plopped down on a barstools and reached for one of the paper cups of coffee.

“No, wait,” Michael said, switching the cups. “That one’s yours.”

With a mental shrug, Brian popped the lid off and carefully took a sip of the hot coffee. He immediately made a wry face. “What is that?” he asked.

“Your usual,” Michael said. Suddenly remembering Brian’s amnesia, he added “Triple non-fat latte.”

“I drink this shit?” 

“As often as you can get it,” Justin said as he staggered from the bedroom. “Or at least you did.”

Taking another cautious sip, Brian set the cup down and shook his head. “I think that’s one taste I won’t bother reacquiring.”

Justin leaned in and kissed Brian on the temple. “Try the pastries,” he suggested. As Brian selected a danish and bit into it, Justin rummaged for glasses, pouring himself and Brian each a tumbler of milk.

Brian accepted the milk with a small smile of thanks before devouring the pastry and reaching for another.

Michael’s was clearly disconcerted by the small changes in Brian, but he pasted on a smile and pretended that everything was okay. “Hunter said you drove him home yesterday.”

His mouth was still full of danish, so Brian just nodded. He swallowed and took a large drink of his milk before responding verbally. “Yeah. I managed to get my license replaced yesterday, so I offered to chauffer him.”

“You just wanted an excuse to drive the ‘Vette,” Justin teased.

Brian grinned. “It’s a great car.”

“Your dream car,” Michael chimed in. “I can’t believe you almost sold it.”

“Why would I do that?” Brian wondered aloud, his brows drawing down slightly in puzzlement.

Michael looked momentarily stunned, as if it was only just now really sinking in that Brian remembered next to nothing about his past.

“Things were pretty rough financially a couple of years ago,” Justin explained. “You sold off a lot of stuff, and you almost sold the car and the loft. But things got better, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Brian said with a smirk.

 

*

Michael hung around for a while longer, trying and failing to reconnect with his old friend. After about the third time that Michael mentioned something that he seemed to think Brian should remember, Brian snapped.

“Michael, try to understand. The kid you grew up, the guy you knew – he didn’t come back when I did. More than likely, he’s gone for good. If you can get past that, I’d like us to be friends, but until then.... Shit, Michael. Until then, I don’t think I really need you around,” he explained, looking decidedly unhappy about having to say hurtful things to this man who had once been a good friend.

Michael looked as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he kept his peace. With a mournful look on his face, he let himself out of the loft without another word.


	12. Reforged

As the sound of the heavy steel door clanging shut reverberated through the loft, Brian scrubbed his hands over his face and then leaned back on the sofa, clearly miserable.

“Have I always had this problem with not knowing when to keep my fucking mouth shut?” he asked bitterly.

“Actually...yeah, you have,” Justin answered with a small smile. “And Michael always gets over it. He’ll be fine, Brian. And he’ll be back,” he reassured the other man. He moved to sit beside Brian on the sofa and gently caressed his cheek.

“I hope you’re right,” Brian murmured, turning his face slightly into Justin’s touch.

Brian sat up a little straighter on the sofa, intending to draw Justin to his side in a casual embrace. Before he could reach for the blond, Justin was moving, raising up and turning around so that he could straddle Brian’s lap and rest his head on Brian’s shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Brian wrapped his arms around Justin. For a moment, they both were still, content with the simple embrace. Then Justin leaned back and took Brian’s face in his hands, hesitating only slightly before gently pressing his lips to Brian’s.

This kiss was very different from the ones they had shared the night before. Where the previous kisses had been fiery and passionate, this one was tender and loving. And unlike the other kisses, this one felt completely right to Brian; he felt no guilt at all as the gentle kiss went on and on.

*

The next morning, Brian awoke to the smell of coffee. He wandered into the kitchen to find Justin with a bagel in one hand and a presentation board in the other.

After Brian had poured himself a cup of coffee, Justin flipped the piece of foam core around, swallowed his bite of bagel, and asked “What do you think?”

Brian studied the ad on the board for a moment before responding. “It’s good. Clever. The copy needs some work, but the artwork is exceptional.” 

Justin beamed at the praise. “I’m not a copy writer,” he said. “I just take other people’s ideas and add the graphics that bring them to life, so to speak.”

“You should tell whoever does the writing that this needs...something. And....” he stopped talking and shook his head slightly.

“And what?” 

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” Justin insisted.

“Just that you might consider finding a font that compliments your graphics instead of working against them,” Brian said, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Justin turned the board around and looked it over. “It is kind of...off, isn’t it?” he mused. “I guess we can work on it when we get to the office,” he added, smiling up at Brian.

*

Even thought the Kinnetik staff had heard about Brian’s miraculous return from the dead, his sudden appearance in the office caused an uproar. Everyone greeted him enthusiastically, telling him it was good to have him back.

Once everyone finally went back to their jobs, Brian and Justin sat down to work on the board that Justin had shown him that morning. Within a couple of hours, they had the revamped ad – complete with new copy – ready to be hand over to Cynthia and Ted.

“Looks like Lindsay was right,” Ted remarked. “You obviously remember more about advertising than you thought you did.”

“Does this mean you’re coming back to work?” Cynthia wanted to know

Brian considered for a moment, unsure.

“You can just ease back into it, Brian,” Justin assured him. “No one expects you to just pick up where you left off. You could just...do what we did today.”

Brian nodded slowly. “I could do that.” He looked up at Cynthia. “Yeah, I guess I’m coming back to work.”

*

Brian and Justin spent the remainder of the day at Kinnetik and then joined Lindsay and Melanie for dinner. Afterwards, Brian played with the boys until bedtime, when he helped Linds tuck them in. Gus wheedled him into telling them a bedtime story, and Linday left him to it.

When Brian still hadn’t come down stairs half an hour later, Justin crept up to look in on the boys. Sure enough, Brian had fallen asleep curled up with his son. Justin smiled softly as he reached down to stroke Brian’s cheek, the gentle touch causing Brian’s eyes to flutter and open.

“Hey,” Justin said quietly.

“Hey,” Brian returned. He flashed Justin a groggy smile and carefully climbed out of the small bed. Justin pulled the covers up over the sleeping boy as Brian leaned down to kiss his son goodnight. They made their way downstairs, said their goodbyes to the mommies and headed home.

Back at the loft, the two men showered – separately at Brian’s insistence – and got ready for bed. Brian was already drowsing when Justin climbed into bed beside him, but he turned instinctively to take the younger man into his arms. Justin snuggled into his embrace, twining their legs together and bringing his hand to rest on Brian’s hip. Brian’s hand mimicked Justin’s finding the younger man’s waist; a smile curved his lips when his hand met bare skin, but he refrained from commenting.

Justin shifted slightly and brought his mouth up to meet Brian’s. Again, there was no urgency in the kiss. A short time later, Justin pulled away, smiling, and snuggled closer to Brian, settling in to sleep.

Just before he drifted off, Brian was sure he heard Justin say “I love you.”

*

Brian awoke before Justin the next morning. He had tentative plans to go into the office, but nothing pressing, so he just lay there for a while, watching Justin sleep. As he watches, he finds himself wondering what dreams are causing the full red lips to curve into a smile even in sleep. Then his mind wanders on to other things. Like his feelings for the young man lying next to him.

He finds himself wondering if it had happened like this the first time, if Justin had owned him body and soul from the very first touch. He wonders if he fell so hard so fast before, or if this is all just drawing on subliminal memories. Whatever the cause, Brian knows he is falling in love with this amazing, sexy man. 

The idea scares him even more than it thrills him.


	13. Reforged

Over the next few days, Brian and Justin developed a routine. They would have breakfast together before Brian went in to the office, leaving Justin to work on projects at home, and in the evenings they could count on visits from at least one member of their family of friends. Most days, Lindsay would bring the boys over or invite Brian over to spend time with his son. Once Brian and Justin made it back home, or finally saw off whichever friends had dropped by unannounced, they would settle down together in front of a movie or sit and talk for a while. Eventually the movie would be forgotten or the conversation would fall by the wayside, shunted aside in favor of kisses and caresses.

Although Justin clearly wanted more, Brian made sure they never went beyond those kisses and touches.

Until Friday night, when Brian came home from work to find Justin sprawled out naked on their bed, slowly stroking his own cock. 

Without sparing a single thought as to the possible repercussions, Brian crawled onto the bed fully dressed and began to lick and kiss his way up Justin’s body.

“You’re overdressed,” Justin managed to pant out, his hands scrabbling for the buttons on Brian’s shirt.

Brian made quick work of the top few buttons on the shirt and quickly jerked it off over his head. The rest of his clothes followed soon after, and then Brian’s body was pressed against Justin’s again. 

Justin instinctively brought his legs up to wrap around Brian’s hips, gently rocking against his lover’s body. Brian groaned, his eyes narrowing but not quite falling shut as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He leaned down to capture Justin’s lips in a searing kiss, and then he was moving away slightly, his brow furrowed slightly and his bottom lip held between his teeth, hesitating. About the time that Justin started to ask what was wrong, Brian’s expression relaxed slightly and he retrieved the lube from the bedside table. 

The first touch of Brian’s hands as he began to prepare him wiped Justin’s mind blank of any questions, of anything but pleasure and lust. He moaned and moved into Brian’s touch, his eyes falling shut and his mouth dropping open slightly. He felt Brian’s cock press against his entrance, and his eyes flew open.

“Wait,” he gasped.

Brian frowned down at him. “What’s wrong?”

Justin swallowed hard, obviously dealing with some inner conflict. Then he sighed. “We have to be safe,” he said simply.

Confusion flickered across Brian’s face, but then Justin moved his hips just so and the confusion gave way to lust. Brian grabbed a condom from the side table, only to have Justin take it from him almost immediately. Smiling sensually up at his lover, Justin tore open the little packet and expertly sheathed Brian’s cock, delighting in the way Brian’s eyes narrowed and rolled in pleasure.

And then Brian was pressing into him, crying out involuntarily as the tight, welcoming heat of Justin’s body enveloped him. After giving Justin a moment to adjust, he pulled back slowly and then thrust in again, just as slowly.

Justin arched his back and tightened his thighs around Brian’s ribs. “Missed this,” he murmured. “Missed you. So much.”

Brian leaned down to capture Justin’s mouth again as he found his rhythm. 

For some time, the loft was filled with grunts and sighs and moans of pleasure and the soft, sharp sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Eventually those noises gave way to pleasured cries as the lovers climaxed and then to quiet panting and the soft smacking of lazy kisses as they came back down to earth.

Lying sprawled on his back beside Justin, Brian fought to bring his breathing back under control, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He turned his head slightly to look into his lover’s eyes. “Was it always this good?” he asked.

“No,” Justin said with a mischievous smirk as he curled against Brian’s side. “Sometimes it was even better.”

*

The next morning, Brian woke to the welcome but unexpected sensation of a warm, wet mouth moving over his cock. He tangled his fingers in Justin’s hair, encouraging him silently, but at the touch, Justin withdrew and moved up to capture Brian’s mouth instead. Brian returned the kiss enthusiastically as he fumbled blindly for the condoms that he knew were beside the bed; when he managed to close his hand around one of the small packets, he broke the kiss and rolled Justin and himself over.

Gazing down at Justin with a feral grin, Brian ripped open the condom packet with his teeth, and for the moment it was if the past eight months had never been. 

Afterward, Brian playfully slapped Justin’s flank. “Go start the shower,” he instructed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Flashing Brian a dazzling smile, Justin complied. Brian heaved himself up and set to work stripping and remaking the bed. That done, he finally turned his attention toward the bathroom.

Through the open doorway and the slightly steamy glass of the shower, Brian could see Justin. The blond tossed his head back, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and turning his face up into the spray, and Brian was hit with another flash of memory – his first clear memory of Justin. A moment later, he was in the shower with Justin, a wide, rather idiotic grin on his face.

“We met the night Gus was born,” he said. “You’re the one who named him.”

Justin stared at Brian for a moment before it actually sank in why Brian was telling him this. “You remembered,” he said softly, his voice slightly awed.

“Yeah.”

“You remembered me,” Justin said. Tears were pooling in his eyes, but he was smiling one of his thousand-watt smiles. And then he was in Brian’s arms, pressing a brief, hard kiss to Brian’s lips. 

Brian rested his forehead against Justin’s, still smiling. 

*

Justin and Brian had gotten used to one or another of their group of friends dropping by, so when a knock sounded at the loft door that afternoon, neither of them were surprised. When Brian opened the door, he was surprised to find Michael standing there.

“Hi,” Michael said kind of shyly. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Yeah, of course,” Brian said, ushering Michael inside.

Justin turned away from the TV to give Michael a reassuring smile. He knew the two would work things out.

“I’m glad you came by,” Brian said, drawing Michael’s attention away from Justin. “I...uh...I wanted to apologize. For being such a shit to you the other day.”

“No,” Michael said with a little shake of his head, cutting Brian off. “You were right. It just took me a while to realize it. But something Uncle Vic said kind of stuck in my head; he said something about how I needed to let go of the old Brian so that I could get to know the new one.”

“I’m sure that’s not as simple as it sounds,” Brian said.

“No. It isn’t. But I’ve been working on it. Ben suggested that I write down my memories whenever something reminded me of the Brian that I used to know. I thought maybe if you do get your memory back we could look at all my memories and see how different they are from the way you remember things.” He paused a moment. “And if you don’t ever remember, then I thought maybe you might want to read them anyway.”

Brian tried to think of an adequate response, but for once, words failed him. He swallowed thickly around the knot of emotion in his throat as he moved to take his old friend in a warm embrace.


	14. Reforged

As time passed, Justin and Brian fell more and more into a comfortable routine of work and friends and home. On the surface, things seemed to be going exceptionally well, but with each week that passed with no sign of Brian’s memory returning, both Brian and Justin became increasingly frustrated. Brian quickly tired of having to ask Justin the answers to simple questions – like when his own son’s birthday was – and the constantly feeling that everyone was looking on him with pity was driving him insane. As for Justin, he was forced to admit to himself that he had never considered what he would do if Brian’s memories failed to resurface. 

Brian wasn’t the same man that Justin had given his heart to and shared his life with for so long. The man who lived here with him and shared at his bed at night was little more than a stranger wearing Brian’s face. As crazy as he knew it was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was cheating on Brian – his Brian – with this stranger.

Still, he and Brian had a commitment. Although they had never exchanged vows, the traditional promises of marriage often echoed in Justin’s mind: to have and to hold...in sickness and in health...until death us do part. They were more than lovers, more than friends. They were partners. They were family. And Justin couldn’t just turn his back on that, despite his doubts and conflicting emotions.

*

One afternoon, Justin sat at his desk in the living room of the loft, sketching madly, fleshing out new ideas for Rage. Unsurprisingly, his hand began to cramp after a short time, and he paused to stretch his fingers. Brian took Justin’s hand in his own, startling the younger man slightly with the unexpected touch, and began to massage the weak hand. The gesture was so familiar it made Justin’s heart ache. 

“That happens a lot, doesn’t it?” Brian asked, his voice soft with concern. “What happened?”

Justin drew his hand away slowly, and Brian looked up to see his young lover’s face filled with hurt and disbelief.

“I should know that, shouldn’t I?” Brian asked quietly.

Justin couldn’t answer. He just staggered to his feet and headed for the bedroom. Brian sighed and put his head in his hands, torn between giving Justin a moment alone and going to try to talk to him. The sound of slamming drawers made the decision for him, and he padded across the loft and into the bedroom.

Brian stopped on the threshold, stunned to stillness by the sight of Justin throwing clothes haphazardly into a large duffle bag. “Justin?”

Without turning around, Justin paused in his packing. He twisted the shirt in his hands as he searched for something to say. 

Cautiously, Brian stepped forward and settled his hands on Justin’s shoulders. 

“Brian,” Justin began, his voice strained.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Brian replied in a near whisper. “I’m not sure I would have lasted this long, if I were in your position. I understand, and I won’t try to stop you.” He squeezed Justin’s shoulders slightly before dropping his hands. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

Justin shook his head and then angrily wiped tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. He zipped up the bag and turned around. “I’m so sorry, Brian,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Brian said. He turned away then. He could let Justin leave, but he couldn’t watch him walk away.

*

With his number one supporter gone, Brian’s quest to find himself became even more difficult and frustrating than it was before. His friends rallied around him, asking questions which he avoided answering and giving him well-meaning advice, until he snapped and told them to leave him the fuck alone. They, of course, didn’t listen. 

Some things never change.

After a week of trying to untangle the mystery of what had happened on the night that Justin left, Brian decided to ask for help. He cornered Hunter alone after school and dragged him back to the loft. Pacing the hardwood floor as he spoke, Brian told Hunter exactly what had happened that night.

“Why did that set him off, Hunter? What is it that I don’t remember?” he asked, desperate to understand.

Hunter stretched out on the sofa and sighed. “First off, it happened before I ever met Ben and Michael, so it’s not like I was there or anything. But Justin told me about it once. I think he told me just about everything you ever said to him, or anything you two guys did together. Except sex. He never would give me the details on that.”

An exasperated sigh from Brian brought Hunter back to the topic at hand.

“Okay, okay. When you and Justin met, he was still in high school. He asked you to his Senior Prom. You turned him down, but then changed your mind and showed up there, which was some kind of big deal to him. Fuck if I know why. Anyway, after the prom, he was attacked. Hit in the head with a baseball bat. You were there, but you couldn’t stop it. Justin was pretty fucked up after that. And the fine motor control in his hand is still shot to hell. That’s why his hand shakes.”

“Shit,” Brian breathed. 

“There’s more,” Hunter said. He proceeded to explain to Brian what little Justin had told him about Brian’s blaming himself for what had happened as well as the psychological effects the bashing had on Justin. He told him how everything had added up to throw their budding relationship off-kilter.

“But things got better,” Brian said almost defensively. “Justin said we were happy together.”

“Yeah. By the time that I met you guys, you were okay again. But from what Justin told me, you took the scenic route getting there.”

Brian moved to stare out the window, looking pensive. Finally he turned to look at Hunter again. “Take care of him,” he said simply.

Hunter looked as if he wanted to argue, but in the end he agreed. He didn’t know what else he could do. The ball was firmly in Justin’s court; if he wanted to stay gone, there was nothing Hunter or anyone else could do about it.


	15. Reforged

Justin managed to avoid Brian for exactly six days. He was still freelancing for Kinnetik, and eventually he had to go into the office. Although he tried to plan his visit so that he wouldn't cross paths with his ex-lover, Brian wandered in while he was still discussing his latest boards with Ron, the head of the art department. 

For just a second, surprised hurt shown in Brian's eyes. Collecting himself, he greeted Justin casually and then turned his attention to the changes that needed to be made on another ad. That done, he took a look at the boards Justin had been going over with Ron. 

"Not bad," he said. He gestured Justin out into the hallway. "How much do you get paid for that?" he asked, nodding towards the room they had just vacated. 

"Uh..." Justin stammered. "I don't." 

"What?" Brian asked, incredulous. 

Justin stopped and turned to face Brian. "When you came back, you told Melanie to return everything to the way it was before you disappeared, which means that I own thirty-four percent of Kinnetik. That means I make money off the agency even if I don't actually do any work, so technically I'm not getting paid for the work that I do." He gave Brian a moment to absorb the information. "I didn't buy into the company; we fought about that for weeks before I finally gave in and let you give me part of your agency. But...I'll understand if you want to regain full ownership, under the circumstances." 

"No," Brian replied almost before Justin finished speaking. "Regardless of whether you bought into the agency, you've earned your thirty-four percent - and then some. Not just for the work you've put into the company, but for...everything you've had to deal with." 

"Brian...." 

"No," Brian cut him off. "I mean it. I don't want you to give up anything." 

Justin nodded his understanding. 

"Now that our little soap opera moment is over, do you think we can get some work done?" Brian asked with a tongue-in-cheek smirk. 

"Sure, Brian. I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing." 

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me. This ad that Miller's been working on needs...something. A new ad, probably, but I was hoping maybe you'd have some suggestions that would keep me from having to scrap it entirely." 

Justin smiled a little nervously. "I can look at it, but I can't promise that I can fix it. His work has really been going downhill lately." 

"Tell me about it," Brian agreed. 

He led Justin to his office, and they looked over the advertisement together, discussing it's strengths and weaknesses. Finally Justin took the board and headed to his office to work on the changes. 

Safely inside his office, Justin let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He and Brian had managed to get through an hour of close contact without any real drama. If he could only cure the ache in his chest that came from being so close to the man he had once loved, they might actually be able to be friends. 

For Brian, working with Justin was both a blessing and a curse. There was no doubt that Kinnetik benefited greatly from Justin's talent and ideas, but having to see Justin several times each week had Brian's emotions twisted into a confused jumble. Although he was glad to have some contact with the blond, seeing him and not being able to speak his mind and heart was torture. 

Although Brian tried to hide his tangled emotions from Justin, there were times when the younger man caught him off guard and saw the love and hurt in his eyes. He hated that he was the cause of the pain in those eyes, and something in him couldn't help but thrill at the undisguised longing there. 

After a time, his own confused mishmash of emotions took its toll on Justin. He called to let Brian know - via Cynthia - that he would be away from the office for a couple of weeks, and then he threw some things into his backpack and a small duffle bag. Armed only with what the scant bit of luggage could hold, Justin bought a ticket for the first bus out of Pittsburgh. 

* 

It had been over three weeks since Justin had left his message with Cynthia, and Brian was beginning to get worried. None of their friends had heard from the young man, and Daphne only knew that he had gone off somewhere to 'find himself.' 

After a particularly trying day at work, Brian decided to drop by to talk to Daphne again before heading home to the loft. He was disappointed to find that she wasn't at home. With a sigh, he pointed the 'Vette toward the loft, making a mental note to try calling Daphne later that evening. 

Brian let himself into his apartment and stopped dead in his tracks. All of the living room furniture had been moved aside, leaving a large section of bare floor in the middle of the room. Otherwise, nothing seemed disturbed, so Brian shut the door as quietly as he could, set his briefcase down, and walked almost silently toward the bedroom. 

Before Brian had taken three steps, Justin came down the steps from the bedroom. "Hey," he said quietly. 

"Jesus, Justin. You scared the hell out of me." 

"Sorry." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I needed to talk to you." 

Brian crossed his arms across his chest defensively and leaned against the bar. "So talk." 

Looking uncertain, Justin let his eyes wander down to where his hand was tracing some sort of pattern on the glass top of the dining table. "I've spent the last few weeks thinking," he said softly, "and I've decided that you should take me back." He glanced up then, apprehensively, afraid to see what expression his words might bring to Brian's face. 

Something about Justin's words chimed in Brian's head, causing him a distinct sense of déjà vu. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he let the words' meaning sink in. "Michael told me that this isn't the first time you've walked away from me." 

Justin winced and looked away. "It isn't." 

"Ben says I deserved it, the first time." 

The hint of dark humor in Brian's voice caused Justin's heart to turn a funny, hopeful flip in his chest, and he looked up, surprised to see the beginnings of a smile on the other man's face. "He's wrong. You didn't deserve it. Not really. And for the record, I never really wanted to leave. I just...I didn't know what else to do." 

"Are you talking about then, or now?" 

"Both," Justin admitted quietly. 

"What made you change your mind. This time, I mean." 

"Like I said, I've been doing a lot of thinking these last few weeks. Especially about what happened the night I left. I owe you an explanation." 

"Hunter told me about the prom," Brian said, moving to stand beside Justin. "And about what happened after. About how we kind of fell apart." 

"Yeah. For a while, right after the bashing, things were actually good between us. You didn't really know how to deal with what you were feeling, but you tried to help me get past it. And we had some really good times together. I don't really know when it started to change, when we started to change." Justin sighed. "Anyway, I guess Hunter told you that I still don't remember the prom. I only remember hearing you yell my name, and then getting hit." 

"Yeah, he told me," Brian replied softly. He took Justin's damaged hand in his own, gently massaging as he had the night that Justin walked away. 

"You tried everything you could to help me remember. You even had Daphne help you try to kind of recreate the dance we shared at the prom." He twisted his hand around so that his fingers were linked with Brian's and gently led the older man to the cleared spot on the floor. 

"We cleared all the furniture away, and Daphne turned on this really sappy old song that we had danced to at my prom. I could barely believe we danced to something so...ridiculously romantic. We kind of danced then, right here, but I still couldn't stand to be touched, so it was really awkward. 

"When that didn't help, you took me back to the parking garage where Hobbs attacked me. God, you hated that, hated having to go back there. You got so frustrated when I couldn't remember anything. I told you that I wished I could remember, and you said that you wished you could forget." 

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?" Brian asked wryly. 

Justin gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. It really is." 

"So what does this have to do with you deciding to come back? Correction, deciding that I should take you back." 

"Everything. After the bashing, I wasn't the same person that I was before. But you stood by me, did everything you could to help me. You deserve the same from me." 

Brian turned away, rubbing his temples. "I don't want you with me out of guilt or some misguided sense of duty," he ground out. 

"That isn't what I meant, Brian." 

"Then what did you mean?" Brian snapped, whirling around to face the younger man again. 

"I meant.... People change; that's just part of life. Even before you lost your memory, you weren't the man I first fell in love with. And I wasn't the man -the boy- I was when I fell in love with you. So you've changed a little more; I can deal with that. I can. I thought I couldn't, but the truth is - the truth has always been - that as long as you're with me, I can handle just about anything. And...and when I finally let myself accept that you're never going to be the old Brian again, I was able to see that I like who you are now. You're not better than you were before, or worse, just different. Does any of this make sense?" 

"I think so." He was quiet for a moment, then he looked into Justin's eyes. "Are you sure? About coming back? Because I don't think I can watch you walk away again." 

"I'm sure, Brian. I've tried to walk away twice now, and both times I came to realize that life without you is...its..." 

"I know," Brian said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Justin's lightly. 

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Justin asked with an affectionate smile. 

Brian cocked his head to one side, pretending to contemplate the matter. "It means I'll take you back," he said with a smirk, "but I'm not so sure you're forgiven just yet." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. Doesn't forgiveness usually follow someone begging on their knees?" 

Justin's face broke into one of his sunshiny smiles. "I think that can be arranged."


End file.
